


catharsis

by Ryah_Ignis



Series: Season 13 Codas [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 13x04 Coda, M/M, but Dean is grieving like it's MCD so, not actually MCD because we know Cas is back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 18:32:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12612780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryah_Ignis/pseuds/Ryah_Ignis
Summary: Mia bites her lip. “I can, if you want.  Do it, I mean.  Become your mother, for a few minutes, so you can say goodbye.”“Catharsis,” Dean says quietly. “You think there is such a thing?”Her eyes drift over to Buddy’s body. “I have to.”He opens his phone.  He hasn’t allowed himself to open his pictures these last two weeks, knowing that what he’ll find will pain him.  But the first picture to pop up isn’t of Mom.  It’s Cas.





	catharsis

“I can help with that, you know.”

Dean gestures at Buddy’s still body, the streak of blood on the wall.  Mia glances away from it, shaking her head.  For a shifter, she sure seems pretty disgusted by a little bit of gore.

“No.  This is something I can deal with on my own.  Something I _should_ do on my own.”

Sam nods. “Okay, then.  We’ll, um.  We’ll leave you to it.”

He takes Jack by the shoulders and steers him towards the exit.  Dean knows he wants to take Jack out to get something to eat, but he can’t quite bring himself to be part of that just yet.  It turns out Jack might really be looking out for them, but he needs a few minutes to process that before they start acting all buddy-buddy.  He points them towards the door.

Sam shoots him that sincere, kicked-puppy look that he always gets right before tries to get Dean to spill his guts, but he leads Jack out of the room anyway.  Hopefully they’ll remember to grab him a doggy bag.

“Do you—” Mia starts.  She clears her throat before she tries again. “Do you need something?”

She watches him carefully in that shrink way of hers.  There’s a reason Dean has never liked these people.  The way they always pretend to know how it feels.  As if they ever could. 

Mia bites her lip. “I can, if you want.  Do it, I mean.  Become your mother, for a few minutes, so you can say goodbye.”

“Catharsis,” Dean says quietly. “You think there is such a thing?”

Her eyes drift over to Buddy’s body. “I have to.”

He opens his phone.  He hasn’t allowed himself to open his pictures these last two weeks, knowing that what he’ll find will pain him.  But the first picture to pop up isn’t of Mom.  It’s Cas.

He and Claire are sitting in one of those old-fashioned dive diners with the glass ketchup bottles and the picture of the original owners standing proudly in front of a vintage storefront.  The Snapchat filter has given both of them ears and a dog’s tongue.  Dean swallows past the lump in his throat.

“That doesn’t look like your mother,” Mia observes, looking over his shoulder.

Dean can’t summon the energy to get angry at her for prying. “That’s my—that’s Cas.  He died.  Um.  When Mom did.”

His knuckles whiten.  It’s a miracle the screen of his phone doesn’t crack under the strength of his grip.

“You said you’ve accepted your mother’s death.”

Dean closes his eyes. “She died when I was four years old.  God’s sister brought her back to life.  It’s only been a year.  I guess I always thought it was a little too good to be true.  But Cas, he’s—he was—an angel.  I never thought I’d lose him just like that.  A blade to the back.  Seems so simple.”

If Mia is fazed by this information dump, she doesn’t show it.  Okay, so maybe there’s something to this grief counselor thing after all.  Instead, she looks down at the phone again.

“Do you want to see him again?”

His heart feels like it’s going to beat straight out of his chest. “Yeah.”

Mia vanishes into her bedroom.  Wondering what the hell he’s thinking, Dean collapses into one of the too-white chairs.  There’s no such thing as finding catharsis.  At least not like this.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean’s heart stops.  Standing in the doorway, dressed in a slightly too-large white collared shirt and a pair of dress slacks, is Castiel.  It takes everything Dean has not to launch himself out of his chair and into Cas’s arms.  He has to remind himself that this isn’t Cas.  It isn’t.

“You—you do good work.”

Cas—Mia—smiles. “I try.”

Without the trench coat, he seems so much more fragile.  Like a bird with its wings clipped, like his body had been wrapped on the pyre.  Dean can’t help himself.  Mesmerized by just the sight of him, he rises.

“Cas.”

Intellectually, he knows that it’s not Castiel standing in front of him.  Knows that Cas will never stand in front of him again.  But every instinct that he has wants to run to him.

“You wanted to say something?”

And before Dean can talk himself out of it, he’s crossing the space between them and drawing not-Cas into his arms.  It feels so good to hold him that it almost feels real.  Then he pulls back, eyes wet.

“You’re not him.”

For a moment, he can catch a glimpse of Mia’s mannerisms shining through. “No.”

This is stupid.

But he gives it a try anyway.

“I’m sorry that I never told you that you were wanted,” Dean begins, voice shaky. “I’m sorry that I never told you that I wanted you here.  With me.  All the time.  Coming on stupid cases and drinking in dive bars and eating at McDonald’s for the sixth time straight because there’s nothing else for miles around at three o’clock in the morning.”

He reaches out and grabs Cas’s wrist loosely in his hand before sliding down to lace their fingers together.

“And I’m sorry that I never told you that I—”

Mia looks earnestly up at him through Cas’s blue eyes, but he can’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

“It’s okay,” Not-Cas say softly, reaching out to brush away the tear Dean hadn’t even realized was there. “I knew.  I promise.”

Dean takes a shuddering breath. “Go away.  Please.”

Mia stares at him for a moment, gentle and even, like Cas when he didn’t think anyone was looking and he caught sight of a little boy stomping through a puddle or a particularly bright-chested robin in the trees.

“You can’t suspend belief,” she says, still in Cas’s gravely tone. “I’m sorry it didn’t help.”

Dean waves her away. “Not your fault.  Get back to normal and I’ll help you with the body.”

* * *

A few days later, Dean’s phone rings.  And when he hears “Hello, Dean,” he knows it’s for real.

 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I appreciate comments. Thanks for reading!


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